Suffering in Silence
by LuminereLucifer
Summary: Luke wakes from a nightmare, and becomes distracted by his own thoughts. One-shot.


**I'm sorry this is so angsty guys. Like, I'm overdoing it aren't I? Sorry, sorry, I just love Luke so much ;-; It's not well edited either, I just had to get this one out. Sorry.**

**EDIT: So I read Unleashed 2 *COUGH COUGH* Spoilers! And found out Luke's Catherine related nightmares are actually canon. Go figure. So this is set between... Dowsing the Dead and the... last... book.. which I can't remember the name of, or bother to check. I've left out his trust issues since those are adressed enough in the second volume of Unleashed. If you want more sadfics of Luke go read it (can't imagine why you would...)**

**EDIT 2: No seriously, this scene pretty much happened in Unleashed... Ughhhhh...**

I plunged out of sleep abruptly, like breaking the surface of churning waters. Clawing at the sheets, I shot into a sitting position, almost gagging, verging on soundless hyperventilation. My heart seemingly smashing itself erratically against my lungs, I was frozen, apart from the uncontrollable trembling, of course. Pressing a hand against my throat, I forced myself to breathe, to be calm. When the worst of the adrenalin and disorientating dizziness had disintegrated, I swung my legs over the side of my bed. The touch of the wooden floors felt like ice after the almost stifling warmth of the tangle of blankets and quilts, but I was grateful for the rousing jolt that carved a swift path of clarity in my thoughts. Careful not to wake my dorm-mates, I eased myself into a standing position, wincing as the ancient floorboards creaked. On tip-toes like a little kid, I found myself creeping towards the window.

As I reached to draw the curtains closed, I caught sight of my bare wrist. It was foolish, but not having a bracelet like the rest of the Colas made me feel... isolated, somehow. It wasn't as if I could just sashay up to Mia and demand one from her- she's so kind to everyone, it would've only make her feel bad, and she had a lot on her plate, with her Dad, and her new powers, and countless other things. More important stuff to worry about then me. It was true that when I'd first come to Cola club my only real friend had been Gideon, and I'll be the first to admit that this was down to my own withdrawn nature - diffidence, Ms Statre said once, though I'm not sure about that - But I'm not trying to blame anybody else. I made hardly any effort with Dax, _my own brother's_ best friend. It wasn't as if I'd ever thought Dax was a bad guy. I know it was tough on him when I materialized from the ether and stole his best mate away, and I don't blame him for being jealous. Anyone would've been. Things would have undoubtedly gone better if we'd tried harder to include him though. _It isn't an excuse,_ I thought, leaning forward against the sill to stare into the patchy blackness of the night, feeling oddly comforted by the roughness of the paint under my fingers, _but I guess I was afraid of change. _And as strange as it sounds, even now, from the moment Gideon and I met he was like a constant to me. Being with him was like being with somebody I'd known for my whole life. No, _longer. _

But maybe, if I had branched out a little more, I wouldn't have felt so suddenly severed from Gideon and consequenty so utterly alone when, and some part of me shrank from the prospect of even thinking her name, Catherine had arrived. Gid was all over her, and I don't blame him for that- her charm could've fooled absolutely anyone, but when she showed up, suddenly it was just me and my shadow all over again.

People had been inquisitive when I first arrived- me having "no powers" and all that. Being the only person ordinary in a place where everyone else was extraordinary had made me stand out, drawn unwanted attention. It's funny, I don't think anyone's ever asked why I kept quiet about my abilities in the first place. There was just so much going on, and I did... "die", and everything. The reason why I was so reticent would certainly not be the first question that sprang to mind for the remaining Colas, especially not after so many months. Even I don't know why I hid it myself, not really. I sighed quite suddenly, and my glasses fogged up from the warmth of my breath. Pulling them from my face revealed an indistinct world of foggy confusion. Almost poetic justice- or maybe _in_justice. Immediately, I scolded myself inwardly for _wallowing,_ as it were, and hurriedly replaced my spectacles.

I've questioned if my secrecy came from a simple reluctance to stir up unwanted observance. When Ms Sartre and Mr Hind were explaining the abilities of the various Colas- well, it was so long ago, I can't remember if I even knew then just what I was capable of, but I suspect so. Was being the dud twin really more appealing than being the outstanding one? Twisting the curtain in my hands, I realized that I would probably still make the decision now. I doubted that I'd grown up at all.

Then there was, of course, the whole matter of my new "condition", because of the incident.I just wish I had been more eager to voice my opinion when I actually had the ability to do so. _Don't know what you have 'till it's gone... _I traced two fingers over my jawline, feeling irrationally ashamed. It was difficult to deal with particularly because it was impossible to explain. If I met somebody new, it was always awkward trying at first to get the general point across. I would point at my throat, and they would think I'd lost my voice, and I would gesture wildly that no, that wasn't the case, and we'd go round and round in circles until someone else showed up and explained everything for me, while I stood around staring at my sneakers.

Once or twice someone had asked how it happened- someone who doesn't know about the Colas, someone who I'm forced to lie to. It's a pain trying to decide which parts of the truth to preserve and which to omit. Often, I invent a totally new circumstance altogether, something vague enough to be believeable. It's easier that way.

The truth was more complicated. Telling mum had been an absoloute nightmare. It had been arranged for her to come up to the College, because everyone has just _assumed _I'd rather tell her face to face. Not that anyone had actually asked. Eventually Gid had saved my skin and just told her for me.

I glanced back at the jumble of tangled covers and discarded pillows where I had been sleeping since I got back from France. I was lucky that the others were heavy sleepers. Still, the nightmare had bothered me. I remember hearing that Dax went through something a little similar after a near death experience of his own, and he was twice the person I was. The flashbacks certainly weren't doing me any good, but if he got over it, then so could I. No-one had to know anything about this.

With that, I headed back to bed, to wait until the bell rung for breakfast and to pretend to wake along with the others.


End file.
